Temple of the Dark Moon

The chilling wind drains the warmth of blood,
The grey stoned path it awoke,
The mind blank as void,
The eyes cold as death.

The requiem of dreams in the distance beyond,
The slow drumming of struggles began,
The grey cloaked sky and earth,
The rising of the Immortal god.

All else trampled below,
For the blinded eye cannot see,
For the deafened ear cannot hear,
For the heartless cannot feel.

The immortality of a god that failed,
Lay broken in the meadow field,
Shattered pieces forever enduring,
Among dancing yellow dandelions.